


Happy to see his back

by Mayth



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Charles and Erik are only implied, Erik knows about Pietro and Wanda, Gen, M/M, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21696937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayth/pseuds/Mayth
Summary: After the events of Washington Erik meets Magda.(Implicit Erik/Charles | References to the comic verse | After DOFP)
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr & Magda (X-Men), Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, implied Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier - Relationship
Kudos: 5





	Happy to see his back

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. English is not my mother language so I’m sorry for the mistakes.   
> 2\. I imagined Erik discovering that Pietro was his son and wanting to talk about it with Magda. Cherik is there because best ship ever.

The skyscrapers that surrounded the road were grey and suffocating. On the side where they were, the sun hit the concrete and there was no shade. A yellow umbrella covered the table where they had decided to sit, outside the building, but little they could do to cushion the heat at the end of the afternoon. The dark-haired man and the woman at his side stretched out on the chairs; the man raised his arm and called a waitress.  
  
"What do you want to take?" he asked the woman, without looking at her. "A beer?" He took off his hat and placed it on the table.  
  
"All right," she accepted.  
  
"Zwei Bier," ordered the man when the maid arrived at their table, holding a small notebook in her hand to take notes. "Frozen." He then added in English. The girl nodded and smiled at him with satisfaction before turning around and walking into the bar.

"I haven't had a drink in a long time," the woman murmured to herself once the silence had become unbearable. "I didn't think I would pick up like this. Here with you. This place is a peculiar choice." Her eyes slipped on the sign at the entrance, _Schumann's_.   
  
The man was looking away, beyond the horizon, as if beyond the waves of heavy air there was something interesting to brood on.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.  
  
"About Germany. About the beer."  
  
"Nothing is as good as German beer."  
  
"I hated German beer."  
  
"You loved German beer," corrected the woman. Her lips wrinkled and a dark light dropped over her face.  
  
"Just because you say that, doesn't mean it's true," the man blew through his teeth.  
  
"I don't expect it to be true anymore," she said in a calm tone, but it seemed almost a lie. "I stopped pretending a long time ago."  
  
"It seems to have been the best choice of your life."  
  
"I don't regret it," she admitted, tilting her head sideways as if she wanted to nod without giving it a look. "I regret nothing. Despite this-"  
  
"Nevertheless," convened the man. "You should have told me, Magda. You should have."

The maid rang a small bell hanging above the glass door of the bar, warning of her arrival. She flanked the man and placed on the table two under-cups and on them two jars of beer. He looked at the woman in passing, then at the man. The man was sitting in profile, his face, illuminated by the rays of the sun, appeared angular and reminiscent.  
  
"You can look at me," the woman was watching him insistently, but he did not want to meet her dark as pitch eyes. The maid left them alone again. "I have the right to be looked at by you."  
  
"The right? Of course," said the man. "You have the right." He turned around to please her.  
  
"Don't get me wrong," she continued. "I've always tried to help you."  
  
He looked at her without blinking for a moment too long. Then, without distracting his gaze, he grabbed the fedora from the table and turned it around between his fingers. They continued in silence until the maid returned to ask if they wanted more. He ordered another beer.  
  
"I still remember the acrid smell among those aces," the woman smiled. Her black hair was moved by a weak gust of wind.  
  
"It tasted like liquorice."  
  
"Yes." She nodded. "I bet you hate liquorice too."  
  
"You should be able to say that."

"I was remembering something good. It was a happy memory, don't spoil it."  
  
"It tasted like liquorice," he raised his shoulders, repeating himself. "It still does."  
  
"It was our home," she said. "It should have had a whole different meaning. Why did it end like this? You said-"  
  
"It doesn't matter what I said. What does it matter? How many years have passed? Twenty? Eighteen?"  
  
"Don't pretend you don't remember." Her voice became hard, almost — ironically — metallic. "Eighteen" she said in the end. "And it matters. It always mattered."  
  
"You say that, but your actions show the opposite."  
  
"What was I supposed to do?" she asked with an air of challenge. A dangerous spark illuminated her eyes. "You could have never accepted such a life, not after what happened."  
  
"Yes, I could have."  
  
"No. You couldn't have." She took a breath. "Maybe you wanted to. In fact, I'm sure you still want to, deep inside yourself. You're a good man, I still believe you are. But you've made choices, you're still making them, and now you're more than ever detaching yourself from the idea of that house.”  
  
"That house was everything to me too,” protested the man weakly. He kept his eyes up and fixed, yet an almost imperceptible flickering of his eyelids betrayed his resoluteness.

" _Was_ ,” emphasized the woman, exhibiting a certain pride. "That has always been the problem, hasn't it? It was all over for you, there was no future after the fire. You just wanted to stir up the past. Again and again. There was no room for me. For them."  
  
A vein on the man's neck pulsed. "That's because you left me no choice."  
  
She, in response, raised her shoulders. "You have it now. What do you want to do?"  
  
The man remained silent.  
  
"As I suspected."  
  
The waitress joined them for the umpteenth time. She took the empty mugs between her slender fingers and placed the new one in front of the man. She smiled at him, but was not reciprocated. The woman watched the scene as if she were in front of a screen, as soon as the maid had left, she looked down.  
  
"It reminds me of several things." She said in a low voice.  
  
"What?" the man distractedly asked as he put his lips on the glass.  
  
"This," she pointed to both of them, the mug of beer and everything around her. "Wasn't that all we were doing? Going down to a bar, drinking beer," she suddenly stopped, then, lost in her thoughts. A moment later she came back lucid and continued, "Before her."  
  
"Yes," the man agreed. "That's how it worked."  
  
"And do you miss it?  
  
"It's not for me anymore."  
  
"Yeah. Apparently. Did it happen after what happened with her or because of something else?"  
  
The man didn't seem inclined to talk, but he did indulge her anyway. "For a while I continued that life. Beer, bars, meanwhile I was looking... For people who shouldn't have existed on this planet. Then-"

In his silence she smiled. "Yes, Peter told me about him. He seemed brave, on television."  
  
The warm wind slammed the umbrella, making it shake. Meanwhile, the man looked silently at the legs of the table.  
  
"What are you going to do now?" the woman changed the subject, perceiving the air becoming heavier and heavier. "After the speech you made-"  
  
"I don't know," he shrugged. "I'm seeking."  
  
"What? God?" she tried. The man repeated the action. After that, he put the fedora on his head. "You could be a father. It's a great start."  
  
"You only say that because you want to hurt me, but you have no intention of welcoming me into the driveway of your house. And of course you know that I have no interest in having a family."  
  
"Oh, but you're lying," she waved a hand in the air. "I know you well, don't I? Isn't this thing about mutants that have to fight side by side — all this fuss and flashy talk — a way to get to have a family or somehow keep it safe? That's how you justify your every decision, you always have, and on the one hand I loved you for it. The truth is another," a sardonic smile appeared on her face. "You want a family, but not with me. Not with me anymore."  
  
The man laughed a bitter laugh. "And with whom?”  
  
"What’s his name?"

"No." He interrupted it, carried away by a fury that a few seconds earlier it didn’t seem he could hatch. "You don't know anything."  
  
"Maybe," she shrugged. "From what our son says he's a good man. I don't care about him or you, it was just an idea, though."  
  
The man stood up and took a few steps until he reached the edges of the sidewalk. He watched a taxi pass him and some cars park. He raised his chin to look at the sky and when he turned around he saw the woman entering the bar. When she came back, ten minutes later, he had sat down at the table again.  
  
"I tried a cocktail," she caught up with a triumphant air. "I really needed it today."  
  
"I guess."  
  
"What are you going to do now?"  
  
"Didn't you already ask me that? I told you."  
  
"Can't we really have that life back?"  
  
"We can't."  
  
"We could have had it all."  
  
"No, we couldn't have."   
  
"We could have had the whole world."   
  
The man hesitated. "Not the two of us."  
  
The woman's face became dark, her lips curled, but after a moment everything relaxed. "I’d have stood by your side."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"Because I cared about them." A couple of people passed by their table. They seemed to be talking about nothing in comparison. "I didn't care about me, that's why I would stay by your side, but I cared and still care about them."  
  
The man stood by and watched her for a few moments, after which he became rigid. "So what do you want me to do?" he asked.  
  
"Well, that's the right question. It's the question I've been waiting for all afternoon. In fact, ever since I received your meagre letter," she smiled at him. "You know what I want you to do. Not for me — you haven't loved me in a long time. I'm not crazy enough to think I can compete with him, I can see it in your eyes. But do it for them, do one thing for them."  
  
The man clenched his jaw, his eyes had become sharp, but beyond that nothing was leaking from his composure. He put a hand in his pocket and pulled out some banknotes and coins, dropped them on the table and then, always with the same hand, put the fedora down on his head. He made a sign of assent with his head and stood from the table and leave.  
  
"Take care, Magda." He just said.  
  
The woman remained to observe in silence the man's back moving further and further away, his profile blurring into aridity. She felt a great relief in her chest.  
  
"I'll be fine. I'll be very happy."


End file.
